


You're Wrong

by ravyn_nevermore



Series: OTP: The Black Pearl [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Ejaculate, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Professor AU, Professor Jim, Rimming, Sapiosexuality, maybe not, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9505961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravyn_nevermore/pseuds/ravyn_nevermore
Summary: So basically I wanted an excuse for Jim in glasses and Sherlock being a stranger and they hookup without knowing each other. It's probably dumb but here it is anyway. It's such PWP that I'm not even giving it a summary. If you like Sheriarty smut... read ahead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ahoy!
> 
> I do believe my bullshit summary says it all. Remember: comments are a fic writer's paycheck. Enjoy!
> 
> Fic, ho!

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hall, sounding the way they should when attached to an angered, determined man. A squeak of fine leather shoes followed when the man stopped short of the door to the lecture hall. Silence fell outside the hall again as Professor Moriarty finished his lecture and dismissed his class. Two dozen students exited the lecture hall and one man slithered his way in and quietly closed the door behind himself. Should this debate become heated, they didn’t need to disturb the rest of the building.

Jim was packing up his lesson plans, books, and ungraded thesis papers when a copy of British Journal of Sexual Medicine smacked the top of his desk. He looked up and met the sharp, aquamarine eyes of a man taller than he with wild curls. The man looked angry and over-confident. The professor pushed up his glasses. “So you read my article then.”

“You’re a maths professor.”

“Indeed. That would be why there are calculus equations on the board behind me.”

“Why would a maths professor write an entry for a medical journal,” the baritone voice questioned, holding back an accusation.

Jim laughed softly. “Maths is my chosen career path, but it’s not the only thing I have studied. I double-majored in maths and anatomy and I minored in physiology. The study of the human body is another of my interests and I consider it a hobby. I offered my article, they accepted.”

“Well they accepted an article that is rife with inaccuracies,” the man accused. “I cross-referenced your statements three, four, five times and it doesn’t add up.”

“Mm. What did you cross-reference with?” When the stranger answered, James nodded. “That’s the problem. They’re outdated. What’s your name?”

“Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective.”

“I see. And you read this medical journal for a case, then?”

“No. Bored.”

“Mhm. Well, Sherlock, if you’d like, I can point you in the direction of my studies and you’ll see that it wasn’t inaccurate. Or…” The professor checked his watch. “I could just tell you why your accusation is unfounded and why you are the incorrect one.”

Tension was palpable in the air between them as they stared each other down. Sherlock licked his lips and nodded. “I’ve got time.”

With a smirk, James adjusted his glasses yet again. He set his things down and leaned forward, putting his hands on his desktop, making direct eye contact. He drew a deep breath and cited his research from direct memory.

Normally, Sherlock would be disheartened and enraged by being proved wrong, but he was too enraptured by the professor’s every word. It was evident that the man was at least as intelligent as the detective himself.

When Moriarty finished, he licked his lips and pushed up his glasses yet again. “Satisfied?”

Sherlock was silent for a moment, still staring at the man, his mind reeling. “You’re clever,” he admitted at last, leaning in slowly.

“Obviously.” Jim didn’t move a muscle.

“At least as clever as myself. Possibly- and I’m loathe to admit- even more so.” Their lips were a hair-breadth apart. The room felt hotter suddenly and their breaths shortened.

“And how am I to know you’re clever?”

“The answer to the last equation on the board behind you… One of your students wrote 3-point-5. The correct answer is 2-point-71828…”

“You saw the answer key.”

“What answer key?”

Jim glanced down at the desk. He’d cleared everything away before their dispute. He met the man’s eyes again. So Sherlock Holmes was, in fact, a clever man. He solved that in seconds…

Another moment of tension, this one much shorter. The miniscule gap between their lips was sealed by a hungry, searing kiss. Jim grabbed Sherlock by the front of his thick, wool coat and pulled him closer as Sherlock grabbed the professor by his upper arms.

James climbed up to kneel on his desk, pulling the other man even closer and deepening the kiss. Their tongues found each other as the Belstaf coat was pushed onto the floor. With a bit of difficulty, the professor broke the kiss and and shifted so he was sitting on his desk instead of kneeling. Sherlock stepped closer, parting the smaller man’s legs and pressing his knees against the edge of the desk. There wasn’t much they could do in a lecture hall without equipment; there wasn’t much they needed to do but release tension.

Deft fingers tugged Jim’s trousers open. In one move, Sherlock tugged his trousers and pants down and dropped to his knees. Jim’s breath caught in surprise. He tried to look at what was happening, but their kiss had fogged up his glasses and they were clearing slowly. He could only make out a mop of curls between his legs Strong hands were on the tops of his thighs as his ankles hit Sherlock’s back. Oh. He leaned back, supporting his own weight on his elbows. A warm, broad tongue moved over his entrance and made him whine. Oh! Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that, but there was no room nor breath for complaint.

When Jim’s glasses cleared, he was able to clearly see the view beneath him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as lovely as it would have been with Sherlock’s mouth around his cock, but a thrill ran through his blood nonetheless. Where most people would have been disgusted by the sounds Sherlock made as he so enthusiastically lapped at the professor’s entrance and fucked him with his tongue, James found it arousing. His moans echoed through the lecture hall and he hoped no one else would hear. Oh, but what if they did? His heart pounded faster at the thought and another thrill ran through him at the prospect of being caught.

Really, they could have gone on like this for hours: Sherlock’s face between Jim’s cheeks and Jim blissed out on his desk, but the pressure in his loins was building and he sought release. He wrapped his left hand around his cock and pumped quickly.

Without even pulling away, Sherlock struck quick like a corba, pinning Jim’s wrist to the desk. The detective’s sharp, lust-darkened eyes appeared and Jim whined at the loss of attention to his entrance. Long fingers took over the rimming while Sherlock’s free hands stroked Jim nearly twice as fast as the man had stroked himself.

Unable to help himself, Jim rocked his hips desperately. “Sher-Sherlock… I’m close. Please…” The tiniest race of a smirk crossed the taller man’s cupid’s bow as he swiped his thumb over the glans. Jim mewled again and again until his orgasm hit and he arched off the desk, coming hard as he squeezed his eyes shut, completely missing the display of Sherlock opening his mouth to catch every drop of his seed.

When the haze cleared, Jim opened his eyes again, having just barely caught his breath. He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose and slid off the desk without a word. He pulled up his trousers and turned to press Sherlock against the desk. With determined and confident eye contact, Jim yanked the man’s trousers open, pulling them- and his pants- down as he dropped to his knees. He only broke eye contact to remove his glasses, fold them carefully, and gingerly place them on top of his desk. He couldn’t make out the details of the detective’s face anymore, but that didn’t change the erotic aesthetic of eye contact as he ran the flat of his tongue along the underside of Sherlock’s length, earning a groan from the velvety voice of the man.

Sherlock’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the desk, unable to look away from the small Irishman on his knees before him. When his cock finally disappeared into that hot mouth, a baritone cry of pleasure exited his throat as his head fell back. James Moriarty was certainly experienced in the art of fellatio and Sherlock filed this information away, hoping that he’d be able to revisit it later in more than just his mind palace.

When the combination of eager flicking tongue, determined bobbing, and hungry-like sucking were too much, Sherlock’s thighs twitched and he pushed his fingers into the professor’s soft brown hair, curling his fingers into a fist. He grumbled out a warning and, when Jim fondled his balls in response, that was it. Stars burst behind the detective’s eyelids and it was all he could do to keep himself standing as the Irishman swallowed every rope of hot release.

James pulled away with a soft ‘pop’ and a bit of a lewd slurp. He licked his lips and climbed to his feet, retrieving his glasses from the desk and slipping them back on his face. He blinked and looked at Sherlock as the man attempted to catch his breath, face flushed and lips parted. Jim crouched to dig the detective’s mobile out of his pocket. He typed his number in and handed it to the man. “Feel free to ‘prove me wrong’ anytime.” He smirked and gathered his things, leaving Sherlock Holmes to gather himself up.


End file.
